


Unsteady

by raggamuffian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: nothing feels real, this is a fanfic about that, you know that feeling when nothing feels right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7691731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raggamuffian/pseuds/raggamuffian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1 AM. Nothing really exists. The world is silent except for a song that repeats and the buzzing of lights. He only has a faint memory of blue eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsteady

There was something inherently wrong with being alone in the apartment Dean had shared with his brother for nearly six years. It had been weeks since Sammy moved out, but that feeling of wrong hadn’t gone away. Dean doubted it ever would.

So he drove. 

He drove around the country until the country changed into suburbs, until those suburbs melted into brightly lit shops that weren’t actually opened, and then back into what could be called country yet again.

He drove until his stomach told him to stop at a plain little dinner. It was just that, plain. Even with all the neon lights circling the top, it looked… plain.

He wasn’t that hungry.

He still walked into the stainless steel door.

There wasn’t a sound of life in the dinner. You could hear the hum of the bright lights beating down on him over the quiet whisper of music. The only proof anyone existed in the world was a man in the back dutifully swiping the floor with a broom. Even he seemed to be unreal though. His motions were slow, methodical.

Buzz, “I’m never going to dance again”, swish, buzz, “guilty feelings got no rhythm”, swish.

Dean sat in a booth closest to the door. No one appeared to take his order. He made eye contact with the man sweeping the floor. The eyes were blue and tired.

Dean looked away first.

The lights still buzzed. The music still played. The sweeping had stopped.

No one came to take his order.

He got up. The man was gone from the back of the dinner. Maybe Dean really did make him up.

The song ended. 

The exact song started again.

He got up just so he could hear his footsteps on the tiles.

There was an old claw machine by the door. There was rust on the joystick. Dean shifted it around to make sure it still could move. It felt stiff but it should work.

He dug a few coins out of his pocket. He placed them on the control pad. He shifted them all so that they were organized by type before slipping two quarters into the coin slot.

Bright lights, brighter than the ones above him, flickered to life as the second quarter clucked somewhere deep in the machine. 

A happy tune came crackling through speaker Dean didn’t even notice. It sounded like something you’d hear at a carnival. Maybe a clown would pop out of nowhere. That would be a story to tell Sammy.

He shifted the joystick again. This time, it caused the claw to move.

He went for whatever was close to the starting point. It might have been a monkey, you really couldn’t tell. It was too buried.

The claw missed.

He put two more quarters in. The music started back up again but Dean didn’t move the claw. He watched the spinning lights on the top of the machine instead. Several of them were burnt out.

“You need to move it soon otherwise it will time out.”

Dean turned to face the voice. It was the blue eyed man. His voice was low, spoke of power that Dean wasn’t even sure existed here on Earth.

Maybe he wasn’t on Earth anymore. It didn't feel like Earth.

“I suck at these,” Dean said.

“I can show you.”

“You good at them?”

“I “suck” at them.” The stranger pitched “suck” in much the same way Dean. “I am better than someone who doesn’t even try though.”

Dean didn’t answer. The stranger pressed a warm cup into his hands. Dean looked down at it. “I didn’t order coffee.”

“You would have.”

“I didn’t order this,” Dean said more forcefully.

“Everyone orders coffee.” The stranger pushed Dean away. He laid his hand on the joystick. “Which teddy bear do you want?”

“I wasn’t—I don’t care.”

“Alright.”

The stranger moved the claw so it was above something bright yellow. He pressed the button.

The claw went down.

It grabbed the plush.

Even the stranger looked surprised. “I have never had it work.”

“Guess it likes me. Must have touched it in the right places.”

The stranger directed his piercing blue eyes on him again. “You barely touched the machine.”

Dean didn’t bother responding.

The stranger pulled out the teddy bear from the machine. It was striped. It was a bee. The stranger looked it in the eyes for a moment before handing it slowly to Dean.

He reached for it even though he didn’t want it. “Thanks.”

“Cas.”

“What?”

“My name. It is Cas.”

“Oh.” He pressed his hands into the bee. He felt it press back against him. It felt real. “Thanks, Cas.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was having that feel. That feel you feel in your heart when you want to drive 20 minutes away to a claw machine to get a teddy bear but its two AM.  
> So instead I wrote a fanfic about it cause that's what you do when you want to experience feelings that you can't experience. That's literally the only reason why this thing exists.


End file.
